


Get off on the Pain

by Princesszellie



Series: Prompts and Drabbles [21]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not Related, Hansencest - Freeform, M/M, bar room blitz, mutal self destruction at its best, shit just got real, they are a beautiful disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:06:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4531878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princesszellie/pseuds/Princesszellie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the world's a stage, but Herc isn't keen on sharing his what he feels is his and he is not afraid to get down and dirty to defend it- regardless of the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get off on the Pain

To hear Scott sing was to really _see_ him.

Whenever Herc had the opportunity to see him perform it was more like a spiritual experience than a concert in some shady dive bar. Something about Scott’s voice was able to transport him out of the dimly lit, stale aired room and to a higher plane. Not one to dwell on or put stock in feelings; but sometimes in watching Scott he found himself _content_ \- or something close to it.

It was nice to know that the pretty little canary on stage singing its heart out also made beautiful noises just for him while he was fucking it senseless. Yes, contentment was a good term for what he was feeling. It wasn’t love, he wasn’t capable of that any more, but it had moved on to more than just constant _lust_.

To be fair he still felt that too. Scott was nothing if not a horrendous tease when he was up there on the stage- dressed to kill and using his body to convey his deep inner depravity. The sway and roll of his hips, the way he turned his left knee out slightly to support the weight of his guitar, the speed and elegance of his fingers were all intimately familiar to Herc; and all on display to torture him.

But it was the good kind of torture. The kind that led to loud, rough sex in questionable bathrooms and dark alleys; the kind that started like a red hot fire and ended in the smoldering ash of gratification.

Unfortunately, Herc wasn’t the only one viewing this particular spectacle, and certainly not the only one with a healthy sex drive and imagination to match. That was the downside; watching other people watch his songbird perform.

Herc was possessive and not afraid of a fight, he knew these were two of his many flaws, but he didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t mind the women as much; Scott was very clear he was more fluid in his tastes but that right now his favorite flavor was Herc. It was irritating watching them reach for him on the stage and fawn all over him after. The occasional tossed bra was amusing in its own way, but still bugged Herc deep down.

What he _really_ couldn’t handle were the other men. They were just as bad if not _worse_ than the women. Much more handsy and familiar, and not in the giggly drunk way the women were. No, in the way that meant they knew what they wanted and how to get it.

It depended on Scott’s mood, and his ‘chemical’ state, on how far he would let them get. When Herc wasn’t around- or had been gone a while, well…that was his own business. When he knew Herc was there and watching, he let it go as far as he dared to rev him up. Sometimes it was the perfect way to get things running, and lead to one of their exhibitionist type encounters.

Occasionally it had the exact opposite effect. Like right now.

The set had ended and Scott had begun his usual post show schmooze the crowd ritual. Herc was seated at dark booth in the corner, enjoying his smoke and whiskey. People watching was a reflex and tonight’s crowd had produced several entertaining specimens. Usually he was spot on identifying the ‘threats’, it was what he did for a living after all, but tonight he had targeted the wrong one.

While he had his focus and attention tied up on what he thought was going to be a likely offender, another unexpected menace had sidled up to the bar and was cozying up to his property. This guy had come out of left field, and was not the usual type that pursued Scott. He definitely did attract a ‘type’, so the big, burly leather clad biker dude was a bit atypical and thus had not set off any of Herc’s warning alarms. Said alarms were now starting to clang loudly in his head, banishing the tranquil mood he had been in during the set.

Scott was leaned against the bar, a drink in his hand, smiling and flirting with anything that moved or paid him attention. The way he had his gorgeous ass positioned was all for Herc’s benefit, but unfortunately it had attracted other people’s admiration. He had quite the cluster of buzzing little flies around him, but the Red Alert guy had pushed through them and made himself front and center.

Herc watched with growing irritation as the other man made very obvious overtures at picking up Scott. Scott, being Scott, with his pathological need for attention- ate it up. At first his body language was open and friendly, but as the other man got more forward and pushy, Scott changed his signals. Clearly this dipshit wasn’t fluent in human interaction, because he was not backing the fuck off.

Scott changed how he was sitting; making it clear he was done with the conversation but the Neanderthal wasn’t having it. Herc decided it was time to become involved in the situation, the current hands off approach wasn’t going to cut it. He got up and moved stealthily to a better tactical vantage point a few seats down the bar. Scott didn’t notice him; he was too busy fending off his unwanted admirer.

The offending person had moved closer and reached for Scott’s hand. Scott carefully withdrew it before any contact was made; he was a big boy and knew how to handle himself. He also knew Herc was around somewhere watching, and honestly he was getting pretty sick of this animal’s antics- and if he kept pushing, his luck was going to run out.

Scott glanced around looking for Herc. He was off the radar, which was bad news. He jumped in surprise as an unwanted hand was placed inappropriately high on his thigh and squeezed. His startled look made his tormentor laugh. Scott frowned and pulled away finally telling him off, loudly.

Surprisingly, that didn’t work as the next attempt at contact involved his ass. And that was the beginning of the end. Scott shot up out of his seat and cursed his molester out, taking an unmistakably hostile stance.

Herc had had enough of this shit. No one touched his asset. “Hey, asshole. Are you deaf _and_ stupid? He asked you to leave him alone.” Herc was a big, muscular guy who definitely should not be messed with- especially when he was clearly angry.

The moron squared off with him. He was as least as tall, but twice as wide; also solid muscle. “Fuck off ginger, nobody asked you.”

This _might_ be a fair fight….

“Herc,” Scott cautioned. He really didn’t want bloodshed tonight.

“Oh so he’s your pimp or something?” Biker Dude asked, “I should have guessed….”

Herc didn’t even stop to think, he just swung. His fist connected soundly with the jaw of the antagonist causing himself blinding pain and not much else. There was only one snap second for him to realize he _might_ have bitten off more than he could chew before the other guy cracked his knuckles against the side of Herc’s head.

The rest was a whirlwind of pain and blood; and a fair amount of yelling, screaming and bets being placed. All of that was background noise for Herc, all he could hear was the hammering of his heart and the increasing ringing in his ears. At one point, when he wasn’t face first on the floor he thought he caught Scott’s voice shouting above the din…but he couldn’t be sure. He really couldn’t be sure of anything like if he was winning or being beaten to death, until he was being forcibly hauled off the other guy by multiple armed police officers.

It was at that point that Herc realized he had fucked up- badly. But he knew the drill, he overrode the adrenaline still coursing through his body as an officer none to gently cuffed and stuffed him into the back of a squad car all while repeating Miranda. He knew the words by heart so he zoned out, instead scanning the shadowy crowd for Scott. None of the faces that flashed by in the red and blue lights where his, and Herc wondered if he had fucked up something more vital than that dudes face.

The ride to the station was hellish, he was dizzy and nauseous, his nose was still gushing and he was pretty sure one of his ribs was broken. He had not had a beating like that in a long time- it was almost refreshing, it took someone special to take down a guy with his training. It was also a reminder that he was getting older because the rock like slab he was sitting on in the cold, disgusting holding cell was a lot harder than he remembered. He might have blacked out for a while, because he lost track of everything including time until he heard a voice say “You got five minutes,” and the click of a pair of very familiar boots on the cement floor.

He opened his one functional eye and glanced out into the aisle and at the blurry apparition waiting for him. It took all Herc had to force his very broken body to get up and walk over to the bars, which he leaned on for support. He didn’t say anything.

Scott stood at an arm’s length away, arms crossed over his chest both defensively and for comfort. He was staring at Herc with those spectacular hazel-blue-green eyes which were blown wide with fear. It took Herc a few seconds to realize it was with fear of _him_. “Hey,” he said softly.

Scott stayed defensive and looked him up and down. Herc was quite a sight; his face was a black and blue bleeding disaster, his shirt was soaked with blood and the hands resting on the jail cell bars were bloodied- and not all with his own blood. It was a frightening sight for Scott on a couple of levels and he honestly didn’t want to be any closer to him.

Herc offered one of his hands in invitation, “Yeah, I’m not sure if I’m okay with getting any closer…” Scott huffed.

Herc gave him a look that implied he was an idiot, then winced at the amount of pain that effort caused him. Scott took pity on him and stepped up to the bars and carefully reached through to touch his cheek gently. “You are a fuckin’ disaster mate.”

“You should see the other guy,” Herc smiled a little.

“Oh I have, on his way to the ER….you beat the living hell out of him! Herc, he’s pressing charges!” Scott exclaimed.

Goddamn he was fucking adorable when he was being super serious. Too bad about the bars separating them, because even beat to hell and in level ten pain, the things Herc would do to him and his precious little drawl…. He settled for grabbing one of Scott’s hands to create the contact he craved. “Don’t worry about it baby, they never stick.” They didn’t. Job perk.

He said it with such authority Scott felt another uncomfortable pang of fear. He had never asked what it was Herc did for a living, but he felt like he really didn’t want to know. Especially if he treated this whole situation like it was a normal thing. Herc raised a slightly trembling hand and held it to his forehead as he got suddenly dizzy.

“Sit down you moron.”  Scott ordered, and once Herc had slid to the floor, plopped down beside him. He passed his ratty old leather jacket through and helped Herc arranged it around his shaking shoulders. His old companion shock was setting in, and whatever was going on in his rib cage was not at all happy about standing up. Yeah he had been injured worse, being shot took the cake, but this wasn’t going to be a pleasant way to pass the night.

Herc sighed and leaned against Scott through the bars that separated them. Scott was quiet for a few minutes, but something was still eating at him. “And for the fuckin’ record I can fight my own battles, I’m a grown ass man.”

“Okay sure, you certainly had a handle on that guy.” Herc snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Shut up asshole,” Scott snapped, “I don’t remember asking for your help, or for you to beat the guy to death and bust up the bar.”

“Well, I’ll leave the next one for you to deal with then.” He was too tired to have a verbal fight, the physical one had been enough. He had defended what was his, even if it was all offended about it. He didn’t care. Mission accomplished. Herc drifted off again, comfortable enough with his head resting against Scott’s shoulder in the gap between the bars. The feeling of contentment generally present in better circumstances had settled over him- no doubt caused by blood loss and a concussion.

Scott sulked and longed for one of the cigarettes they had confiscated at the front desk. This was not at all how the evening was supposed to end. Not that they ever had concrete plans, but it was supposed to end with them blissfully entangled naked and sweaty in someone’s bed, _not_ huddled on the concrete floor of the local precinct separated by steel and resentment. Maybe he had enough money in his wallet to pay Herc’s bail. At least that way they could get out of here and get Herc some medical attention. He was loathe to move since his companion seemed comfortable, so he waited and contemplated the circumstances that landed them here. There was a sad song in here somewhere, he just knew it, and since it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be, he had the time to find it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Whew. This one was tricky! :) I guess the cat is out the bag about Herc's dark side....they are such a beautiful mess. It's going to be a race to the finish to see who turns out to be the biggest fuck up! good times ahead lol. 
> 
> Title comes from the Gary Allan song "Get off on the Pain" from the album of the same name. 
> 
> Audience Poll: Gary Allan is the voice i hear when Scott 'sings'.....Tell me who YOU hear! I am so curious to know! :) Please tell meeeee, I won't judge lol. I'm just so curious......<3


End file.
